To Burn
by aracella
Summary: Kira, an arrogant, spiteful firebender raised in the Earth Kingdom, has more than a few lessons to learn. Originally published under author name kookooforzuzupuffs. ZukoXOC
1. The Undesirable Element

I was told I had too much fire in me. Padma insisted that fire was good, for it brought vivacity and passion; Nichi argued that it brought only destruction, and to prove it, gestured outside, where foreign soldiers stalked and spoke with harsh tongues, indeed destroying our resolve.

"Fire is dangerous," Nichi said with a round oval tongue. "If we have too much the bread will burn."

"The bread will burn anyway because you do not watch it," Padma slyly replied.

I sat in between them, a tender girl of eight, eager to speak my mind but not knowing what exactly was in it.

"What is fire good for, anyway? Send her out."

"No! Fire is enchanting. It will attract many customers."

At that Nichi looked down upon me, appraising me with an incriminating eye. "Enchanting maybe to dumb moths."

"Dumb moths will pay double," her sister rejoined. "We need some help in this place. Who cares what she is?"

Nichi sighed. "Fine. But only until we find someone pretty and safe."

Padma smiled upon me, her wrinkled eyes crinkling further, until her long lashes diminished them. "Hear that, little girl? You've got yourself a job."

She showed me to the room upstairs where I would sleep among the crates and boxes and elephant rats. She gave me new clothes and bid me change, and with that she shut the door.

Turning to the window, I inhaled the warm, dry sunlight and held up my palm. A small flame burst from my fingers.

It was a pleasure to burn.


	2. Lessons

I think we all at some point or another wish to be born again, to start a fresh life anew. But to be born again, first you have to die.

I died when I was sixteen.

* * *

><p>"Happy birthday, my love!" Padma cried joyously, gripping my head between bony thin-skinned palms and planting a wet kiss on my brow. I smiled.<p>

"What's the big deal, anyway?" Nichi snapped in her toad-croak of a voice as she bustled past with a fresh loaf of bread. "She's only sixteen."

"Sixteen is an important year! She's a woman now," Padma grinned down at me proudly. "Come, Nichi. We have no daughters of our own. Surely you can show Kira some measure of kindness, on her birthday at least."

Her sister only harrumphed at that, going about her business. I ignored her, as I usually did when Padma was around.

"It's okay, Padma," I told her, glancing back from the tea I was brewing. "Your acknowledgement means the world to me."

"Oh, you sweetheart," she cooed, pulling me into a warm embrace. Nichi snorted.

Pulling away, Padma looked down at me with her kind grey eyes, smiling with crooked yellow teeth. "I bought you something."

I gasped. "Really?" A simple "happy birthday" was enough - I'd never received a gift before.

She nodded. "Go look in the pantry, on the third shelf."

I obeyed, taking the opportunity to push Nichi on my excited way to my present. Sliding the door open, I looked around feverishly, my eyes landing on a parcel wrapped in paper. I grabbed it, tearing it open impatiently.

With a loud gasp I pulled out the silken red fabric. Gold thread detailed little floral patterns on it, a symbol of my youth and availability.

"Oh, Padma!" I cried, throwing myself on her. She chuckled, leaning back against the counter to support me. "It's beautiful, it's better than anything I could have imagined!"

"Well don't get too excited! I'm afraid I couldn't afford to get you an obi. It's just the furisode for now."

"That's fine, that's fine," I said, holding it against myself. "I'm going to go put it on right away!"

She smiled. "Alright. I'm going to go to the store. I'll be back later." With a wink, she kissed each me and Nichi on the cheek and left.

* * *

><p>I sat in Nichi's room, a forbidden place of what to me seemed lavish things. The light in here was harsh, shining into the room at an angle, casting deep shadows across the walls. It made my cheekbones stand out, an aspect I decided I liked. I looked different from the other people in this tiny Earth Kingdom village. Everyone here was brown, with brown eyes and brown hair and brown clothes. Me, however - well, my skin was white, almost luminescent, especially in the moon, and my eyes were a bright, fearsome gold that I liked to think could shine from a mile away, a symbol of my inner worth. The structure of my face bordered on masculine, my jaw round and strong with matching cheekbones and forehead. These features could appear in one light harsh and mannish, and in another light exotic and striking. Padma's gift only emphasized these unusual attributes, the deep red of the fabric accentuating a warmth in my skin which would otherwise go unnoticed. The robe was perfect, I thought, smiling coyly at myself in Nichi's mirror.<p>

I picked up her blue bejeweled comb and ran it through my hair all the way to the floor, where it hit the wood with a thump before I brought it back up and started again. I delighted in the soft pull on my scalp, the way my dull dark hair pooled itself on the ground. Setting the comb aside, I picked up a mysterious round bottle with a little pump and a small hose. I shook it, listening; there was liquid inside. Curious, I squeezed the pump.

"Ah!" I cried as the liquid sprayed out, bringing with it a floral, exotic scent. I sniffed the air. It was the loveliest thing I'd ever smelled, better than the fresh bread downstairs or the roasted meat in the oven. Holding the bottle an arm's length from myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the pump once more, this time directing the hose towards me. It rewarded me with a face full of its foreign spray.

"Kira!"

I jumped and the bottle slipped from my fingers, clunking from my lap to the floor and rolling away. Hurriedly I replaced it on the vanity and rose to bustle out of Nichi's room and down the stairs.

"It's my birthday. _And_ it's rest day. I shouldn't have to work," I growled irritably as I strode into the restaurant. I hated to be always at that witch's beck and call, never having a day of freedom to myself.

"You don't have to," Nichi barked from the bottom of the stairs. I paused beside her, a little higher up on the steps, glaring down at her frog face.

Sighing in a clear expression of annoyance, she swallowed and looked up at me with harsh silvery eyes. "Padma - for she is the _only_ reason I am doing this - has asked, now that you're sixteen, for me to teach you the ways of the fan." Having said this she turned and walked the few paces to the other side of the hallway, removing two golden fans from the wall. Walking down towards the back room, she gestured towards the two remaining fans. "Come along. Bring the other ones."

Skeptically I walked around the foot of the steps and reached for the golden fans. They were heavier than I'd imagined, for they were made with some thin metal material, strong despite their delicate image. I had assumed they were only decorative, meant to imply some sort of beauty or honor or wealth or any other attribute we didn't have - I'd never imagined they could be used, much less that Nichi knew how. Following her into the back room, I saw that the furniture we never occupied had been pushed aside, leaving a bare space in the middle. There the old vulture stood expectantly, holding the golden fans.

With a closed one, she pointed roughly to the floor beside her and I went to stand there, watching, too curious to make my usual malicious comment.

Without a word, Nichi bent one rickety knee forward, which shook with the effort. Extracting one fan from her side, she opened it horizontally, so it lay flat and parallel to the floor. Then she nodded to me. I copied the move, kneeling slightly and opening the fan.

Suddenly her claws snapped out and rapped me on the neck with the fan, spanking my skin with a smart pop.

"Ow!"

"Keep your head up!" she snapped. Returning to the practice, she lifted the open fan up, rotating it with her wrist so it splayed out beside her head. I copied, watching her.

"No, hold your other hand out like this. Curl it inward, keeping the fingers together, pinched like you're holding a biscuit."

I tried this, but she soon hit me again. "Witch!" I cried, hitting her back. She stumbled, barely steadying herself.

Glaring at me, she muttered, "I knew it was a mistake to give you a weapon."

I raised my eyebrows, holding the fan aloft. "_This_ is a weapon?"

"Of course it's a weapon," she snapped, returning to her spot. "It's made of metal."

"Then why are we dancing with it?" I asked in the most condescending tone I could muster.

"Because," she explained, bending again and waving the fans about her with a flair. She tossed one over her head, where it spun and landed in her other hand, surprising me with her strength and dexterity. A click signified their union and now the two fans were one, which she closed before leaning over and jabbing me.

"Ow! That really hurts!"

She snickered. "_Weak,_" she carped, smirking. Then she straightened, taking her fans apart again and moving them around. "Once you learn to handle them properly, without pinching your fingers or straining your wrists, they will appear light and airy. No one will suspect that these accessories to your cheerful dance are actually instruments of death."

I stared at the gold fans in awe. Now I saw that they were instruments not just of folly, but of violence as well. I marveled at the possibilities.

Moving uncomfortably close behind me, Nichi gripped my wrists with her claw-fingers. "Hold them like-" she stopped. My eyes widened. With mounting panic, I listened as she sniffed my hair loudly. Suddenly she broke away, fixing me with an accusatory glare, her freakish eyes bugging out of her head as her mouth twisted into an insidious frown. "You were in my room! You used my perfume!"

Before I could retort, she was hitting me with the fans. "You-little-"

"Ah! Ow!" I yelled, thwacking her back.

"You wench!" she screamed. "You thieving, scheming little girl! Ungrateful brat!"

"Witch!" I hollered. "Old, twisted, evil, crazy bitch!"

She gasped exaggeratedly, pausing in her attacks. "You take that back!"

Leaning my face close to hers, I spat at her. "Bitch."

Suddenly she had my wrist, twisting it in her vulture grip. I cried out in pain, dropping to my knees in anguish as she gloated over me, grinning. The fans clanked to the floor. When she finally released me I fell down beside them, holding my bruised hand, feeling crippled. She leaned over me, backlit by the sunny windows. She spat on me. "Go catch some more fish for the restaurant. Don't bother coming back until sundown."

* * *

><p>"I'm <em>not<em> teaching that spoiled little beast!" Even from outside, I could hear Nichi screeching at her sister, who only replied with soft disagreement.

"She just needs a little time-"

"She needs a knock on the head, is what she needs! I don't know _why_ you brought her here all those years ago-"

"All those years ago she was just a poor orphan abandoned on the street, I couldn't very well-"

"You couldn't very well leave her alone! Let her die out there! Oh no, precious Padma has to save everyone, doesn't she?"

"I wish I could save you," Padma replied sadly. From the night outside, I watched through the window as she started to climb the stairs, her wooden shoes softly thudding on the floor. She paused. "Please do teach her, my dear. You could learn as much from her as she could from you."

As Padma resumed her climb, Nichi leaned against the stair rail, the long black hair fallen from her messy bun and hanging in her face as she stared at the floor numbly. Then she bent to pick up her gold fans, replaced them on the wall, and followed her sister upstairs.

* * *

><p>The next day was a busy one.<p>

"Kira!" Nichi barked. I dropped the book.

"What are you doing? You should be out serving customers!" she admonished, stalking over and snatching the tome up off the floor. She waved it in my face. "Not sticking your big nose where it doesn't belong!"

I glared at her but proceeded into the front room, dabbing my hands on my apron. Pulling out a damp cloth, I started wiping down a table. An elderly man approached, his hands folded in front of him.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he asked kindly.

Stepping aside to let him pass, I shoved the cloth back into my pocket. "What would you like?"

Glancing over the menu, he looked up, his unruly grey beard scraping the table. "I'll have the roast duck, please. Do you have any ginseng tea?"

I nodded. "Roast duck and ginseng tea?"

"I would much appreciate it. But not as much as a smile!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. His were dim, headed by thick eyebrows and cheerful wrinkles like Padma's. His eyes… despite their age, I could still distinguish the unfamiliar gold, something I'd never seen in anyone but myself. I couldn't help but stare for a moment, wondering… but no. He was too old.

I brought out his roast duck several minutes later, accompanied by Nichi, who poured his tea.

"My, what beautiful ladies!" he cried. "Tell me, are you her mother or her sister?"

This was a ridiculous stretch of a compliment, as there was no way Nichi looked less than a hundred, and at being accused of kinship - though we both had the same black hair and strong features - we both grimaced.

"I most certainly am not!" Nichi snapped, unable to control her disgust. "She's just some vagrant my sister found. Ugh! I've never been so insulted in my life!" With that she spun on her heels, marching furiously back into the kitchen.

The man's mouth was a small O as he stared after her. Leaning down to place his meal before him, I grinned bitterly. "I don't think she likes me."

* * *

><p>When the time finally came to close our doors for the night, Nichi found me in the kitchen, scrubbing.<p>

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well stop! It's time for another fan lesson."

My head shot up as I dropped the sponge and spun around to face her. "What?" I asked Nichi's retreating back, but she only gestured curtly for me to follow her into the rear room again.

We resumed our places as if the last fight had never happened, and Nichi began again, demonstrating the opening and waving of the fan. Again I copied; again I failed.

"No, no, no," she grunted irritably, pulling at my wrist. "You need to loosen up. Look, your wrist is too weak." She shook it roughly. "Apparently it's the only thin part of you."

I shot her a look, which she returned with vehemence.

"No matter. Your wrists will strengthen."

So they did. Each night for months we practiced again, and each night my wrists were sore and aching. Nichi had me start by holding the fans closed, gripping them like swords, and curling my wrists forward and back a hundred times, followed by dancing, and soon defense, then offense, for which we added special blades to the ribs of the fans. We griped and snapped at one another, unless Padma came to watch, in which case we only made rude comments under our breaths so she couldn't hear.

* * *

><p>"Kira!" Nichi screeched again, snatching the book away from me. "Why do you insist on defying me? Day after day after day - you can't even read!"<p>

Jumping up from my seat, I stuck my face right into hers, so close I could see each tiny line carved into her clay skin. "Yes I can! I can read!"

A sly smile crossed her lips. She shoved the book roughly against my chest. "Fine. Read it to me."

I was so shocked by this command I had no clever retort. Seizing it, I snapped it open, flipping to the first page. I started to read.

"The Ass, the… oh… oh-ehss…." I struggled, the sounds forming uneasily on my tongue. I didn't think I was at all correct. "The Ass, the Ocean, and the Gentleman. Once upon a time-"

She snatched the tome away, thumping me on the head with it. "That's not what it says!" she cried, smiling. Now it was she who leaned into my face, taunting me in her toad voice. "You _stupid_ girl. You can't even read the title."

"At least I can still control my bladder," I spat, pushing past her to march into the kitchen. Standing before the mirror, I grabbed a fistful of hair and wrapped it up expertly into a bun, so that the lower half remained down. Slamming the kettle onto the stove, I grabbed the spark rocks from the counter, hitting them against one another furiously. The promised spark didn't come, and I hit them several more times before screaming and throwing them against the wall. _Life would be so much easier if I were free to use my bending - if I were free at all,_ I thought bitterly.

I stood there heaving for some time before tiredly wiping the hair from my sweaty face and kneeling to pick up those damned rocks.

"Got the tea going?" Nichi asked pleasantly as she swept into the room.

Taking a deep breath, I resumed hitting the rocks. The fire sparked to life.


	3. Death, Part I

"Kira!" Nichi shrieked from the bowels of the kitchen. I jumped and dropped the book.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, stalking over and snatching the tome up off the floor. "You know not to touch this! Go up and take Padma her dinner!" Here she thumped my ass with the book, and I hurried off, rubbing the tender spot and grumbling curse words.

I slid Padma's door open softly. Everything about her room was soft: the way the warm hazy sunlight nudged its way through the window, the way the wood glowed and the floorboards creaked and especially the way Padma laid on the thin mattress sweating or shivering. She had fallen ill the previous winter, when a terrible pain set in somewhere in her body, and ever since then she vacillated between extreme temperatures regardless of the season. One minute she would be shivering and clutching the blanket, the next she would throw it off and demand water in a feverish sweat. There was not much we could do except feed her and bathe her and clean up her mess.

I knelt down beside my aged savior on the floor and prodded her gently. "Padma," I whispered. "Dinner."

Groaning, she eased her sticky eyes open. Sleep was her only respite from the sickness, and though I hated to wake her, I did not want her to starve. I could already trace her bones.

Pressing a hand to her skeletal back, I lifted her as she moved to lean against the wall. I held the spoon up to her mouth. "Come on."

In this way I spoon-fed her until she refused any more. I looked down into the bowl; it wasn't even half-empty.

After I helped her to lie back down, she raised a jittering finger. "Kira," she wheezed from dry, unused lips. This gesture surprised me, as she had barely spoken in months. I leaned down to hear her.

"Yes, Padma?"

"I know where you come from."

Inhaling sharply, I sat back up and stared down at her wrinkled face. Hers was a kind face, soft to match her room. It was lined with a thousand wrinkles, "one for every white lie," her younger sister said.

"What are you talking about, Padma?" I demanded, hoping this was only her fever talking, or else one of her white lies.

But she never answered, for she was fast asleep before I finished asking.

* * *

><p>Nichi sat at one of the tables, a scroll stretched before her. She gestured to the chair opposite. "Sit down, girl."<p>

Now this was unusual. Curious as to what exactly was going on, I obeyed without objection, watching her warily for signs her insanity had worsened.

She stared at me for a long moment through dim, watery grey eyes. Nichi and her sister were darker than most people in the village, and they shared the same strange eyes, but where Padma's were kind, Nichi's were only cruel.

Finally she opened her mouth, but reclosed it, then opened it again, speaking in her toad-like croak of a voice.

"My sister is dying."

This statement shocked me, not for the information it conveyed - we'd both known, for a long time, the hitherto unspoken truth - but for the measured control with which she said it, as if she were trying to hold back tears. Nichi never cried, not as long as I'd known her. She did not complain except about me, and she showed no emotion besides anger, save for love towards her sister. In fact, we were both that way: spiteful with one another, tender solely with Padma. She was the only thing tying us together, and the only thing tying me to the restaurant - until today.

Nichi eyed me, watching, I supposed, for my reaction. "I know I will hold on much longer than my sister. I am strong like an ox while she is soft like a fish. But you, Kira," she poked her crooked finger towards me, "you are like a dragon. Strong like me, but hard and unfriendly and destructive."

I glowered at her.

"I know this is a foolish thing to do," she continued, picking up the scroll and holding it out to me, "but I am passing the ownership of this restaurant on to you when I die. Padma and I have no heirs, no living relatives but one another. You're my only option."

Eyeing her, I took the scroll and unrolled it, scanning the parchment as if reading it. Of course, I couldn't actually read any of it - it was all in the old tongue, with odd suffixes and characters - but I wanted to save face, to give the impression I knew what leverage I now held. Rolling it back up, I rested it on the table and coolly returned my gaze to the woman across from me.

"This is a great honor I am bestowing upon you," Nichi began again; I almost snorted with laughter. _What honor?_ I thought incredulously. _This restaurant is a piece of crap, full of mold and old lady smell._

Nichi sighed as if she couldn't believe she was really telling me these things, as if she hated to give me so much. Twisting the saggy skin around her finger, she looked down at her lap. For years I had never noticed the subtle hints she gave of the softness that so characterized her sister, but in the months I'd spent learning fans from her I had discovered this hidden grace. Nichi had a way about her, and I'd come to realize that we were much more alike than I'd long thought. Like me, she had a rough exterior that hid a soft heart - but unlike me, she revealed it from time to time.

"The truth is," she said, still looking down into her lap, "you've rather grown on me, child. You're still terrible," she insisted, smiling a little as she looked up at me. I allowed myself a twitch of the lip. "But you have grown on me. Your discipline and perseverance in the study of the fan have impressed me. I'm not too bashful to say I've taught you well."

Now I allowed myself more than a twitch, instead raising a sort of half-smile. "I'm not too proud to say I agree."

Suddenly there was a crash upstairs. We both froze, our eyes darting to the ceiling, then back to one another.

She patted my hand. "Go check on Padma. I'll get dinner started."

Scurrying to the staircase, I climbed it two steps at a time until reaching the upper hall and slammed her bedroom door open. A wave of heat hit me, along with the roaring sound of flames and a cloud of smoke. I choked, stumbling back. Padma lay half on her mattress and half on the floor, reaching for me and coughing.

"Padma!" Diving down, I grabbed her and started pulling, but noticed her robe was on fire. Glancing around me, I grabbed the blanket and beat the conflagration furiously. "Nichi!" I screamed. "Nichi!"

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, followed by a long, loud screech. "Padma!"

Rushing to her, Nichi started pulling off her sister's robe, trying to drag her out of it. Finally she managed to yank her into the hall, where her naked body lay twisted and stiff. I continued beating the flames, but they only seemed to grow. There was the smashing sound of glass and another roar; Padma's gin had caught fire.

Ditching my efforts, I ran out into the hall where Nichi sat, Padma cradled in her lap.

"Nichi! We have to get out, I can't stop this fire!"

For once Nichi did not have a reply. I stopped, staring down at the wrinkled body in her lap, the frozen face on her shoulder. Padma stared up at the smoke, unblinking and unseeing. It was a cruel blow, a stab to the heart. I bent to place a gentle hand on Nichi's shoulder as there was another burst of flame.

Her head snapped around, her eyes wild with hate, her thin cracked lips twisted with rage. "You did this!"

I fell back, hitting the floor. "What?" I coughed. "Nichi, I didn't-"

"YOU DID THIS!" she screamed, curdling the blood in my veins. "SHE TOLD ME, SHE TOLD ME WHAT YOU ARE! WHAT YOU CAN DO! YOU DID THIS!"

"Nichi, I swear-!"

"MURDERER! MURDERER!" her voice was rough with the smoke, and she descended into a coughing fit. Staring at the scene, the two aged sisters, locked in a frozen embrace amidst the heat and flames, I backed away and ran down the stairs out of the restaurant.

A crowd was there to greet me as I stumbled through the door, coughing and spluttering, veiled in a plume of smoke. My eyes were watering so badly I could not see, but strong hands gripped my arms, dragging me away from the debacle. I felt myself shoved into something made of wood and soon the screams, the roars, the heat, even the pain in my heart faded to black.


	4. Death, Part II

Prison was a cold, damp place that stood in such stark contrast to my last scene that I almost welcomed it.

Almost.

I awoke in a world of pain, for I'd been thrown against the stone wall so haphazardly that my spine and legs were bent in awkward positions, rendering them useless for the time being. As I lifted one and then the other limb I felt pins and needles pierce me so thoroughly I cried out.

Keys jangled at some distant door, which slid open to let a golden, heavenly light spill in upon me. A man's feet slammed against the wet rock floor, splashing tiny puddles. A hand grabbed the front of my robe, bunching it in a fist. There was hot breath on my face, then a grunt before I was thrust back against the wall. Then everything seemed to rewind: the footsteps receded, the door slid back across the ground, the light disappeared, and the keys jangled again, leaving me to the dark.

* * *

><p>"Firebender" in my world was synonymous with "killer," even where death was not an issue, and a girl with gold eyes like mine could just forget about her freedom.<p>

I stared down at my pale legs, luminescent even in the dark. The only light came from a single barred window that gave a view of the feet and wheels that crumbled along the street above. Occasionally some trash or, if I was lucky, a coin, would tumble accidentally (or, in the case of the trash, perhaps purposely) into my cell. Whatever it was, I kept it, if only to have something to call my own.

I was dirty. My feet were dirty, my legs were dirty, my prized red furisode was dirty. My nails were so dirty I started to bite them. The dirt even made its way somehow beneath my clothes, in my hair and on my stomach and on my breasts. It was on my neck and on my face and in my teeth. It was in my ears, my eyes, my nose, my hair. The dirt was everywhere.

How foolish I had been to think that my previous condition was the worst. How foolish I had been to pity myself then! Padma's excrement and Nichi's criticism were luxury compared to the neglect I received in prison. Oh, Padma, poor Padma. She was so kind to me, my sole benefactress in this world. I yearned for her in my lonely prison cell, barely able to recall her in life. No, the only image I could recall of her was her frozen face turned up to the smoke-veiled ceiling, grey eyes locked on something I would not see for many years. And Nichi… oh, Nichi. So strong, so hard, but with a grace all her own. I recalled the day Padma brought me to the restaurant, Nichi's words: _There's too much fire in you._ For so long I'd been proud of my fire… now I saw it was nothing but a curse.

From the single small window in my cell a shaft of light gleamed through, gold in the day and silver in the night, casting a rectangle of light on the floor, intercepted only by the shadows of the bars. Day after day, night after night, I watched that rectangle as it slid slowly across the stone uneven floor. Hours passed by in which I did nothing but stare at that light, but even if I stopped blinking I never saw it in action. I would be watching it in one spot and suddenly it would be across the room, but I was never able to track its progress in between. Likewise, I could not envision much of my own path for a long time. It was only once I started to pay attention to the sounds that my course was clear.

Though I could not tell the time, by listening to the sounds of the street above and relating them to the position of the light on the floor I was able to determine which hours were the calmest. During those hours, though I could barely reach the window, I wrapped my hands around the bars and did the only thing I knew how to do besides bake and brew and dance with golden fans. Creating flames would of course attract the attention of any unexpected night patrol, but there was another way to create such heat without much light. The pain was excruciating, but I never once cried out, even as my skin burned. I figured it was penance enough, some sort of additional punishment doled out to me by the spirits. How fitting that my only means of escape was self-mutilation, and then by the very talent that condemned me.

I was lucky I lived in a small town. Small towns house stupid people, and so unless I yelled, the guards never entered my cell. What fools! If they had they would have seen, gradually, day by day and night by night, that the window bars were melting.

It was a good thing no one looked with their feet.


	5. Running

It was by the strength of my will rather than the strength of my arms that I managed to pull myself up through the tiny window. I stretched one arm out onto the empty night street, then the other, dragging myself farther and farther out onto the dirt road. There was a rumbling off in the distance, but I didn't take heed until it was upon me - a fast, lonely rider on an ostrich horse nearly trampled me. The stranger, hidden by a sugegasa, glanced back at me in alarm as he sped off. Just a wanderer passing through, though he scared me half to death. Stupid tourists should watch where they're going.

I struggled to squeeze my hips through, but finally I was out, on my belly in the road. I inhaled the dry, dusty air deeply, laying there for a brief moment to savor the first few seconds of freedom. Then, staggering, I rose to face the open sky.

* * *

><p>I awoke the next morning to the foreign sounds of birds chirping, bugs buzzing. My cheek was pressed against cold, compact dirt. I sat up stiffly, my body sore and aching. I pulled a twig from where it was stuck to my cheek and combed a few leaves from my hair. I didn't remember falling asleep here in the forest.<p>

The sun shone brightly through the leaves above me and I gazed around in a daze, as if finally woken from a long slumber. The world had a dreamlike quality to it. Everything is beautiful when you're free.

There was a hollowness in me, a strong pain. For a moment I sat scrutinizing my stomach until I realized that what I was feeling was hunger. I couldn't remember my last meal. Listening closely, I heard the sound of rushing water - I was close to the river still. Fish. I would have fish for breakfast, sweet, juicy fish. Perhaps I could find some herbs somewhere to season it.

Casting about, I spotted a thin, small dry tree - right next to a star anise tree. Perfect. I'd come back to that later - for now I grabbed a skinny branch from the dry tree and pulled, snapping it right off, and headed for the river.

My hands were still raw from their burns, many burns which had healed one over another, only to be burned again. But the pain was nothing to my ecstasy, the excitement of once again being out in the open, of catching fish just like in the old days. The old days… no, I didn't want to think about that. I only wanted to leap into the familiar water and catch myself a fish.

I stood in the shallow banks, watching, waiting, my rudimentary spear raised in my hand. The water was cool, washing softly against my skin, just above my ankles. I could see my feet clearly through the water, and my eyes roamed about in a methodical pattern, searching for the slightest sign of movement, the glimmer of a silver fin. A breeze blew by, washing coolly over my face, and I caught sight of a shadow in the water - no. Just my reflection, my hair surfing the wind. I looked closer, scrutinizing my image. My eyes seemed more deeply set in my skull than I remembered them, my skin not half so bright in its pale shroud. My lips had lost their color, my proud gold eyes dulled and grown harsh. My cheeks had sunken in with emaciation, making me look even more lifeless. My thick brows seemed permanently scrunched together, and try as I might, I could not slacken them.

Suddenly there was a shadow to my left. I turned my head pertly, my grip tightening on the rough bark. A tiny green-and-silver frogfish was meandering my way, tracing its pathway uncertainly left and right as it approached. I made sure not to move my feet, not to disturb the water. It nudged curiously up to my ankle, circling around it, then made its way off to the opposite bank. I lunged.

* * *

><p>I was just about to bite in to my deliciously seasoned frogfish when I heard rustling and a yell.<p>

"I see her! She's by the bank!"

I didn't have to look to know I'd been detected. Dropping my hard-earned meal, I sprang up and leapt through thorny bushes, scratching my cheek on a branch as I glanced behind me. The soldiers, three of them, were racing down the forested hill towards me, swords in their hands. I ran through the forest, suddenly full of an energy I'd never known, the metallic taste of adrenaline piercing my tongue, my heart alive with the shock of fear. My bare feet pounded the hard ground, rocks and twigs jutting into my soles at odd angles. I kept running, not knowing where I was going. At one point the sleeve of my furisode caught on a branch and yanked me back. I had to rip it off completely - I could still hear the guards. I ran and ran and ran until the sun started to set and suddenly it was dusk.

The forest started to thin and I emerged onto a barren piece of land with some rough buildings nearby. I wandered, still panting, into the town, delirious with heat, hunger, and exhaustion. My hair was stuck to my face with sweat. My legs were sore; I could barely lift my throbbing feet. All I wanted was a meal in my belly and a place to lie down.

Only a few people were out in this near-deserted town. Some Earth Kingdom soldiers were gathered around a gaggle of prostitutes, drinking and laughing. A young man in a sugegasa was walking through, carrying a small sack back the way I'd come. He trudged past me, glancing at me sideways as he passed. His left eye was marked with a large, hideous scar still distinguishable even in this darkness.

I stumbled past him, paying little attention to where I was going. Where had I seen that scarred face before? I wanted to say it was on a poster somewhere, perhaps for a play….

Something warm and hard knocked into me and suddenly I was being pressed up against it, the hair at the nape of my neck in a grip so tight I cried out. Hot, inebriated breath washed over my face.

"Well, look at what we have here," a low, gruff voice sneered. I stared up at the soldier who had seized me. His eyes were dark, menacing, and his face was coated with rough facial hair, which he rubbed slowly against my cheek. "It's a young one, boys! So smooth… why pay for those sluts when we can get it for free, huh?"

I reacted, heat rising up from somewhere in my belly and billowing out, blowing a stream of fire straight into the soldier's face. He screamed, violently shoving me away and covering his burning face. I glanced around. Everyone stood staring at me in horror - the drunken soldiers, the women, even the scarred boy.

I ran, pushing past the man and heading straight for the woods again, but this time I couldn't run as fast, this time I stumbled more than once and fell. A heavy body crashed onto me and I screamed, scared for my life and for my honor.

A warm hand clapped over my mouth, gripping me entirely too hard. "Be quiet!" a man's voice commanded.

I continued screaming, thrashing underneath him, but he only gripped me tighter, pinning me down. His other hand held both my wrists firmly against my back.

"For Agni's sake, be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he whispered tersely, straddling my backside. He was pressed down on top of me, his hot breath in my ear. "I'm trying to help you."

I stopped screaming. I stopped thrashing. Slowly, very slowly, he eased up on me, letting go as he sat down beside me on the ground, panting heavily.

I spit the dirt out of my mouth, just as out of breath as he was. I turned to look at him, rising up to sit on my haunches. It was the scarred boy. He sat there - just sat there - with his legs splayed before him, leaning up on his elbows, his chest heaving, his thin torso exposed by a rip in his shirt. The hat was gone and now I could study him in the moonlight that streamed through the branches. He was pale with short dark hair, handsome except for his scar. He looked unfed, unwashed, uncared for. He stared back at me, probably scrutinizing me just as closely.

"They went this way!" a man yelled in the distance.

I leapt up and ran again.

"Hey! Wait!" the boy cried, and I heard him scrambling behind me. I kept running, though, pushing farther and farther away from him, the branches tearing at my flesh, my feet pounding the hard earth once more. Eventually I found the river again and raced alongside it, obeying its course. My throat still burned with the fire I hadn't known I could breathe.

Soon I heard the claws of an ostrich horse fast behind me. A sob burst from my sore throat. Tears streamed from my eyes. I was caught. After all the fighting, all the running, all the burning, I would be a prisoner again. I was doomed to fail and most likely to die.

I slowed down, stopping to regain my breath, looking back at the riders behind me, tears still racing down my cheeks. But there was only one rider - the scarred man who had accosted me. I stared at him, heart pounding. What on earth would he do to me?

As he approached, he slowed to a stop and held out his hand. His mouth was set sternly, his gold eyes glinting down at me. His brow was furrowed as if he'd never had a happy day in his life.

"Hop on."

I stared up at him, perplexed. His eyes… they reminded me of my own. I'd only seen one other pair, that man back in the restaurant….

I swallowed. "Why should I trust you?" My voice came out much weaker than intended, and I cursed myself for it.

In the distance, there was the sound of more ostrich horses.

The boy glanced behind him and then back to me, still holding out his hand. "You don't have a choice."


	6. The Prince

There was something very warm to my right, heating me in the distinctive way that only fire can. There was the sound of crackling, the scrape of a boot across the dirt. I opened my eyes slowly, still squinting as I groaned a little and pushed myself up off the ground.

The boy looked at me for a moment before returning to the fire, poking it with a stick. Then, after a moment, he said stiffly, "Good evening."

I rubbed my eye. "Um, good evening." Yawning, I sat up and pulled my legs to my torso, hugging my knees. It was still dark outside.

"Are you hungry?" the boy asked.

"No," I lied. My stomach rumbled in disagreement.

"Are you sure?" He didn't seem genuinely concerned - more like these were routine, perfunctory questions he typically asked strange firebending girls he happened to pick up.

"I'll catch a fish in the morning."

He raised his eyebrows - or eyebrow, as there was only one of them. The other one seemed to have been burned off, along with half his face, in an insidious red scar stretching from the inner corner of his left eye all the way back to his ear, which was pink and shriveled up. Yet the rest of his face was perfectly normal, handsome even. It was unsettling, to say the least… and those gold eyes intrigued me so.

"You look familiar," I started, watching for his reaction. I thought I saw him flinch, so I continued. "Were you in a play or something?"

"No," he answered, staring at the fire.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He seemed irritated that I'd asked, but I pressed on anyway.

"I could swear I've seen you on a poster somewhere."

"Look," he said, tossing the stick aside and fixing me with a penetrating glare. "I don't want to play the question game. I hate questions. I hate answering them. Don't ask them."

I only glared back at him, biting my cheek to keep from lashing out.

"Besides," he continued, "if anyone should be answering questions, it's you."

I swallowed, still setting him with as stern a gaze I could muster. "Oh really?"

"Yes. Really. What's a firebender doing in the Earth Kingdom? You must have been raised here."

"What makes you think that?" I challenged.

He faltered; I had him. His eyes widened for a moment, but he squinted them again. "Well for one thing, your form." He smirked. With one swift upward motion of his hand, the flames of the little campfire suddenly blew up, billowing out and rising to the ceiling of the small cave. The heat rushed into my face, nearly burning me. I gasped, scooting back from the fire.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the fire returned to its former size. I stared at the man across from me.

He was still smirking, which only served to anger me. "You haven't seen me on theatre posters. You've seen me on wanted signs."

My eyes widened. "You're Prince Zuko."

His smile dropped. "Was," he replied, looking into the fire. "But I will be again." His gaze flicked back to me. "Your turn."

I smirked this time. "Me? I'm nobody."

"_Nobody_ doesn't just spit fire in a soldier's face," he retorted. "That's advanced firebending."

"I thought I had no form."

"You don't," he insisted, his gold eyes glinting in the firelight. The scarred side of his face was lit up, but I tried not to stare. "But you're powerful."

I shrugged, looking away to hide the small smile creeping upon my lips. Was I really that powerful? Even by the Fire Prince's standards?

"Is that why you helped me?"

"You mean _saved_ you?"

"_Helped,_" I rejoined, frowning.

He paused for a moment, watching me. "I don't often meet other firebenders here. At least not ones without a uniform."

"I don't often meet princes."

His lips tightening into a thin line; he looked away, out of the cave. "You can sleep here tonight," he said suddenly. With a wave of his hand, the fire diminished to mere embers.

* * *

><p>But I didn't sleep. As soon as the sky started to lighten, I rose, brushed myself off, and started walking. Where the hell had he taken me? I couldn't find the river, nor a pathway, not anything. I'd been walking for some time when I heard the sound of an ostrich horse.<p>

I stopped and looked back, up at the renegade Prince Zuko.

"Where are you going?" he asked simply.

I crossed my arms and continued walking. "I don't know."

"How intelligent. You're going somewhere, but you don't know where."

"Do _you_ know where you're going?" I asked, parting some branches just enough to pass. Then I released them, delighting in the sound they made when they hit the prince's face.

"That was unnecessary."

I smiled, though he couldn't see it. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

I turned to face him again. "Where are you going?"

He stopped his ostrich horse, staring at me quite plainly. Finally he answered. "I don't know."

"Well, we make a fine pair, don't we?" I asked, continuing on my way.

"I suppose," he mumbled behind me. "But… us firebenders - we should stick together."

"What would a prince want with a peasant?" I replied, a little more than curious to understand his interest in me.

It was a while before he responded. "People are looking for you. People are looking for me. We can look out for each other."

"Why, because we're the same element?"

"Technically speaking, you _are_ my subject. Even if you were born here."

"I wasn't born here," I replied darkly.

The ostrich horse stopped. I turned back to face him, squinting up at him fiercely.

He stared back at me. No menace, no glare, just simple observation, his gold eyes never wavering from mine. "You won't last a day traveling on foot. They'll catch up to you. Especially when you're so easy to spot." He nodded to my red robes.

I sighed, looking at a point just beyond his left foot. "I know," I admitted.

He gestured to the ostrich horse. "Then get on."

And I did.

* * *

><p>"How do they fit?" the prince asked from the other side of the tree.<p>

"They don't," I grumbled, trying to pull his shirt farther across my chest. It was no use; it was too small, and it hurt my breasts. And the pants were ridiculously loose on me. Every time I tried to secure them around my waist, they'd fall right to my hips. The legs were too long and bunched up around my ankles; I was sure to trip.

"Look, this isn't going to work," I announced irritably. "I need women's clothes."

"Let me see," the prince said, emerging from behind the tree, his arms crossed. He froze, his jaw dropping a little and his eyes aimed right at my chest.

Fury and hot embarrassment bubbled up inside of me, turning my cheeks warm and red, and I hurriedly covered my breasts, which were practically bulging in this tight shirt. _"Women's clothes_," I repeated, grinding the words out between my teeth. He gulped, his gaze flicking back up to me, and I saw his unscarred cheek was as red as the other one. He nodded, setting his mouth in a thin line, and walked back behind the tree.

"I'm changing back into my furisode," I informed him, unbuttoning the shirt.

"Don't," he commanded in a rough voice, still behind the tree. "It's too risky. The red stands out too much."

"Well I can't just walk around like this!" I replied, my voice unusually high. "No, I'm changing."

"No, it's too much of a risk!"

"I don't care!"

He re-emerged, his brow furrowed with stubborn determination. "Half the soldiers on this river are searching for a woman in a red furisode right now. You're a bright red target in that thing. I won't have you risk both our lives just so you can be pretty!"

"So I'm supposed to walk around like this?" I asked, opening my arms wide. His eyes flicked down again, and I groaned in disgust. "See?"

"See what?" he asked dumbly.

I stormed on him. "You can't keep your bloody eyes off them!"

His nose twitched, his mouth setting even more sternly than before. "Just wear that until we get you something better," he said quietly. With that he turned around and got back onto the ostrich horse, staring straight ahead, making a point not to look at me. "Come on. We need to make progress."

I sighed angrily, grabbing my furisode and stuffing it into the satchel tied round the ostrich horse. Then I mounted, sitting behind the prince, and we recommenced our journey in silence.

* * *

><p>That night we camped by the river, beneath a large ghost tree. The prince stretched out in a crevice formed by its roots while I gathered dry leaves and twigs for a fire. I turned away from him, blocking his view of the wood as I raised my hand, willing what little energy I had to extend beyond me and create fire. The first time, nothing. The second time, only a small puff. I huffed, blowing the hair out of my face as I tried again, concentrating hard. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my energy beyond myself again. A huge flame suddenly burst from my palm, blowing far beyond the collection of branches and shooting out a stream of fire. I jumped back, bumping right into the prince, who grabbed me and threw me to the ground.<p>

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled furiously. "You don't know who could be along this river! We could be caught!"

I glared at him, propping myself up on my elbows. "Well if you're such an expert, you do it then!"

He glared at me, then turned back to the fire, which was now blazing happily, along with a few patches of grass. He walked over, stamped out the small patches, glared at me, and returned to his spot in the roots.

Letting an angry sigh out through my nostrils, I got up and grabbed the other branch I'd found and waded into the river, searching the water for something tasty. Stupid prince. What did he know, anyway? Besides how to firebend properly… ugh. I bet if I'd had a master, I'd be far better than him. He himself had said I was powerful, though untrained. But maybe….

I caught sight of a silver fin and stabbed a few times, catching two medium-sized fish, which wriggled desperately around the branch that pierced them through.

Maybe the prince could teach me.

* * *

><p>I roasted the fish expertly, seasoning them with some of the herbs I'd gathered the other day. Stabbing each of them through with a stick, I leaned back and offered one to the prince. "Here."<p>

He sat up, glancing suspiciously between me and the fish as he took it. "What did you do to it?"

"I cooked it. Obviously."

He glared at me as he bit into it, and I watched him expectantly. His expression transformed from one of irritation to surprise. "How did you do that?" he asked with wonder.

I smirked, quite pleased with myself, and turned back to my own well-deserved supper. "I used to work in a restaurant. It's not much, honestly. I wish I could've found some sancho."

"It's the best thing I've tasted since-" But he stopped suddenly and didn't continue.

"Since what?" I asked casually. Maybe he would tell me about his past, about living in a palace. How glorious his life must have been!

"Nothing," he replied.

I shrugged, returning to my meal. "So," I said through a mouthful of fish, "when did you start learning to firebend?"

There was a pause, then he said, "I suppose I was about four."

"Are you any good?"

"Of course I'm good," he answered indignantly. "I'm the Fire Prince. Why would you even ask that?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to offend you."

A moment passed before he spoke again. "I'm not a master yet though, if that's what you're asking."

"But you still know enough to teach someone else, right?" I asked, turning back to gauge his reaction.

He looked back at me suspiciously, his unscarred eye open wide, chewing his fish slowly. Then he swallowed and looked away again. "I suppose so."

I hesitated. I didn't want to ask, but this was my only chance - this was what I'd been waiting for all these years. And who could train me better than the Fire Prince himself?

"Would you teach me?" I blurted suddenly.

He paused, finishing his fish. "Perhaps. I'll think about it. Goodnight." With that, he tossed his fish bones aside and laid back down in the dirt.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Sorry, but I only just figured out how to see reviews in the new layout. ^^" Anyway, it really means a lot to me. I hope I continue to surprise and impress you with this story. :)<p> 


	7. Kindness

We were walking through a large village market when I saw them.

They were simple, yet elegant. Forged of hard steel. Gilded in gold.

I had to have them.

I looked over to where the prince was standing at a stall, buying feed for the ostrich horse, and slipped inside the boutique. It was small, dusty, and filled with antiques, including an elderly woman who sat behind the counter. Her eyes were closed, her body immobile in the still rocking chair. I walked up to the counter and stood there awhile, waiting for someone to come out. A few minutes ticked by before I started drumming the counter impatiently with my nails.

"You want to see the fans," an old voice croaked suddenly, making me jump. My heart pounding, I looked to the woman in the rocking chair. Her beady little black eyes were open now, half her mouth lifted up in a smile. "I saw you looking at them in the window."

"Yes." I coughed. Her voice reminded me so much of Nichi's it was unnerving. "I'd like to know how much they are."

"More than you can afford, I assure you," she said, pushing herself slowly out of the chair, arms trembling like brittle sticks. I frowned.

"But I will let you see," she continued as she shuffled at a snail's pace round the counter. I followed her to the window display, where she took down the fans. She squinted up at me, smiling as she held them out. "You have a fine eye, my dear."

Eyeing her, I took the fans. They were tremendously heavy - it was a wonder the old toad could pick them up. I flicked one open, and out shot five throwing blades, pinning themselves in an arc on the wooden wall and making me jump.

The old lady chuckled, nodding. "Deceitful, aren't they?"

"Very," I agreed, turning them over in my hands.

"Much like yourself." She smiled, still nodding, her beady eyes looking up at me widely.

I glared at her. "What do _you_ know?" I barked, shoving past her and trudging out of the store.

I kept my head down as I hurried through the market, looking around for the prince. He was nowhere near where I saw him last, so I kept walking.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a man cried as I bumped into him. Up ahead I saw a merchant selling assorted weapons. He was talking to a customer in a sugegasa - just the prince I was looking for.

"Hey," I greeted quietly, sidling up to him.

"Kira! I've been looking for you everywhere," he growled, gripping two broadswords very tightly. "I told you not to run off."

"I think we should leave," I muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

"What? Why?"

"Well, if your girlfriend wants to leave…" the merchant began, but the prince cut him off.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

The man held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Relax! I was just going to say, if she wants to leave, you'd better go ahead and buy the swords. You won't get a better deal for miles!"

"Probably not," the prince grumbled. "Fine. Here." He shoved some coins into the merchant's hand before grabbing my wrist and yanking me away. When we'd gained enough distance from the crowd, he whirled on me. "What do you think you're doing, stealing knives?"

"You saw that?" I asked, surprised. From my pocket I extracted the handful of throwing knives I'd filched from the weapons merchant.

"Of course I saw! You were obvious! I'm surprised we even made it this far."

"My apologies, _Prince_," I spat, walking ahead of him. "But that's not all I took."

I heard an angry growl behind me.

"What, you've never stolen? Oh yeah," I continued. "You're a prince. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter. You don't know what it's like."

A hot grip closed around my elbow and spun me around. Suddenly the prince's face was inches from mine, and I could practically feel the heat rising off of him as he seethed, "What sort of life do you think I'm living? I sleep in the same dirt you do." With that he shoved me aside and we continued back to camp in silence.

* * *

><p>We ate dinner in silence too, nothing but the sound of chewing and the crackling of our familiar fire to serve as conversation. Food and fire: they seemed to be our only links, other than destitution and the threat of imprisonment, or worse. I'd wrapped my golden fans in my old furisode while the prince wasn't looking, and every once in a while I glanced back at them, yearning for the moment the prince would fall asleep and I'd be able to play with my new toys.<p>

In the distance, an armadillo wolf howled.

"Don't call me Prince," the prince said suddenly.

I looked up from my meager meal, meeting his eye. His gaze was unusually soft, his mouth relaxed as he stared unseeingly at the fire.

"What?" I asked dumbly.

He cleared his throat. "Call me Zuko," he said in his low, rough voice, returning to his meal.

"Okay," I replied, watching him a moment longer before continuing to eat.

After a while he cleared his throat again, finishing his food. I watched curiously as he twisted away from me and turned back with some long item wrapped in paper. He tossed it towards me, and it skidded to a halt halfway between us.

"I got something for you," he mumbled.

I glanced from him to the parcel and back again. "What is it?"

He nodded towards it. "Open it."

Leaning forward, I grabbed the package up off the ground and unfolded the paper warily. Out slid a soft, cottony green robe, the sort a farmer's wife might wear.

"I figured it would be more practical than what you have now."

I allowed myself a small smile, holding it up in the firelight. "Thank you… Zuko. But… how did you afford it?"

"I didn't."

I nearly burst out laughing, but held it back. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

But he smiled back at me. And the more I looked at him, the more I smiled, and then he started laughing, and then I started laughing, until we were both rolling over in the dirt, laughing at the prince's - I mean _Zuko's_ - hypocrisy.

* * *

><p>I lunged to the right, whipping my fan out as I aimed at a tree. The small blades shot out, but I missed horribly. I huffed a little fire and stepped back into position. I tried the other one; same result. Sighing, I looked down at the fans. They were heavier than I was used to. Slowly, I recalled the first dance Nichi taught me: kneel forward, open fan, head up. Curl the left one in while lifting the other fan up beside head….<p>

I remembered everything, everything Nichi ever taught me about dancing and fans. And I remembered how to make bread like she taught me, how to season meat like she taught me, how to brew tea and balance heavy plates on my arms without letting them fall. I remembered her criticism as well as the few compliments she paid me, and how much they meant because of their rarity.

I remembered the last thing she said to me.

_"YOU DID THIS!" she screamed, curdling the blood in my veins. "SHE TOLD ME, SHE TOLD ME WHAT YOU ARE! WHAT YOU CAN DO! YOU DID THIS!"_

_"Nichi, I swear-!"_

_"MURDERER! MURDERER!"_

Suddenly I didn't want to dance with the fans anymore. Closing them, I slid them into the pocket of my new robes and headed back to camp, back to where the prince lay sound asleep. I sat down across from him, holding my palms up to observe all the burns.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay in my update! It seems like every time I sit down to write, someone comes and interrupts me. :l I promise it won't be so long next time!<em>


	8. A Sheet of Parchment

I was shaking.

"Kira!"

I groaned, rolling over. The shaking continued.

"Kira, wake up!" the prince commanded roughly, his hands gripping my shoulder. "We have to go!"

"Ugh… Why?" I moaned, opening my eyes against the harsh sunlight. Prince Zuko was a silhouette towering above me, his perfect side illuminated just slightly. His bright gold eyes shone even in the darkness, and I could see the fury in them.

"Why?" he repeated angrily, shaking something long and cylindrical in my face. "This is why." He threw the thing in my lap.

I looked down, picking it up. It was a roll of parchment. Carefully I unfurled it; it was a painting of me and him, with words around it. "What is this?" I asked in wonder.

"Read it," he demanded, packing up our few meager belongings and strapping them to the ostrich horse.

My heart sank as I stared at the medley of characters that meant absolutely nothing to me. "Okay," I said, rolling it up and tucking it into the folds of my old furisode. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>I was burning with curiosity about what the poster said, but I was far too proud to reveal my illiteracy - especially to a prince. Oh, he would probably think I was so stupid. I thought back to the day Nichi made me read the book - how humiliating that was! Ugh. I could never tell Prince Zuko.<p>

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"I don't know, why don't you consult the wanted poster. It conveniently instructs us on the nearest available prison," he retorted.

A wanted poster. I figured as much.

"I don't need your sarcasm," I snapped. "Besides, it was probably _you_ who was noticed."

"You who _were_ noticed," he corrected impatiently. I felt my nostrils flare as a little heat rose inside of me. "And it couldn't have been me. What did I steal?"

I held my arm out beside him to show him my brand new robes.

"Oh, well forgive me for doing something _nice_ for you."

"Stealing is nice?"

He snapped the reins, spurring the ostrich horse faster. "Fine. See if I ever do anything for you again."

"Fine," I replied, crossing my arms behind him. After a moment, I said, "If I'm so much trouble, why don't you just get rid of me?"

"I've been considering it."

I decided to keep my mouth shut after that.

* * *

><p>We camped on high ground that night; we'd diverged from the river, since apparently that's what the poster said we were following, and headed north.<p>

I returned from my fruitless search for food with my new clothes already soiled; I'd fallen in a mud pit.

"I couldn't find any food," I announced.

"Do you know anything of the geography here? Where the nearest town is? Anything?" Prince Zuko asked me as he gazed around us at the high mountains.

"No," I said, sitting down with a sigh. I tried to slick the mud off my pants, but to no avail. I grabbed some dry grass and tried that, but it was only mildly successful.

"You must know something," he grumbled, still looking around.

"I never left the fishing village where I grew up."

At last he turned to look at me. "Not once?"

"No."

His lone eyebrow burrowed into the skin above his nose. "But you're Fire Nation. You must have come from someplace else."

I glared at him. "I don't know," I ground out through gritted teeth. He'd better not cross into that territory or he would regret it.

He stared at me for a moment, and I could practically see his mind at work, imagining a whole life for me, what my childhood was like, who my parents were.

"Why are you covered in mud?" he asked simply.

I sighed. "I fell."

"You didn't find any food?"

"No, I already told you, I found nothing," I replied impatiently.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright. I guess we'll just go hungry tonight."

"I guess we will," I agreed, lying back on the grass. At least the ground here was softer.

* * *

><p>Despite the soft ground, it seemed I couldn't get comfortable. I kept thinking about that poster, wondering what it said.<p>

I glanced over my shoulder at the prince. He was curled up on the other side of our dying fire, facing me. His skin was so strikingly pale, it glowed in the moonlight. It was even whiter than mine, like nobility.

Turning my back to him, I reached for what tangled silk remained of my prized furisode and pulled out the poster, unrolling it so I could study. I looked at our painted image - two pale faces with gold eyes and dark hair. We were both frowning, and my lips were painted red. Somehow, I thought, we looked kind of nice together. We matched.

Brushing these thoughts aside, I turned my attention to the text. What could it possibly say? I didn't know where to begin. I knew to read from top to bottom and from right to left. I thought I understood a few characters, but none of them seemed to be on this page. Why didn't I get Padma to teach me when I had the chance? Or Nichi, even?

"What are you doing?" The prince's voice made me jump. He was standing right above me, looking over my shoulder.

I glared at him. "Reading this."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He shrugged, crouching beside me. I sat up to face him. He scrutinized me, and I glowered back.

"I was thinking what direction we should take, given that this tells us where they believe we are."

"And where's that?" Wa she suspicious of me? I didn't like his accusing eyes.

I cleared my throat, looking at the scramble of words in my lap. "Well, I think we should continue north, since they think we're on the river."

He nodded, smiling slightly. I didn't like that smile. "So is it true?" he asked finally.

My brow furrowed. "Is what true?"

"What the poster says."

Choosing my words carefully, I asked, "Which part?"

He hesitated, then hovered his hand over my lap. He placed a finger deliberately on one of the characters in the sea of lines and dragged his finger slowly down the column. I could feel the warmth of his touch even through the poster.

"That part," he said softly.

I glanced down, pretending to read it, then returned my gaze to him. "What if it is?" My mind was racing. _What did the poster say about me?_

He seemed to have no trouble looming his face threateningly close to mine. His gold eyes bore into me like a professional inquisitor. "Well if it _is_ true, then I think we ought to part company. I don't want to be associated with someone like you."

_"Someone like me?"_ I spoke lowly, narrowing my eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean I don't want to go gallivanting about with _murderers,"_ he sneered.

The word hit me like a punch in the throat; I choked. I saw his eyes change in response, like his suspicions were confirmed, like he thought he knew - and I couldn't help it, I lashed out - my hand cracked hard across his face. He turned away with the force of the blow.

He sat there for a moment, looking away from me, his cheek red under his scar. I was frozen. I'd just slapped a nobleman - a prince, of all things. I knew it was something to regret….

But a part of me was glad.

"I didn't kill anyone," I said weakly.

He twisted back to me, such a fury in his bright eyes as I had only seen in a rare few people before - namely, in Nichi and myself. His mouth was contorted in a menacing grimace that seemed to condemn me without words.

My voice was stronger this time. "I didn't kill anyone."

He looked like he wanted to hit me back. But instead, to my great surprise, he made the demand: "Tell me what happened then."

I scowled and crossed my arms. His face still held so much rage, but I wasn't afraid. "I don't have to tell you anything."

Suddenly he yelled, seizing my wrists and pinning me to the ground as he swung his leg over me, straddling me. The parchment in my lap crinkled under him. Every part of him burned with rage.

"TELL ME OR I'LL-"

"Or what? You'll spit fire at me? I'll spit back!" I yelled as loud as I could. I tried to move my arms, but he was too strong for me. I felt the fire burn in my belly, threatening to rise up.

His face was dangerously close to mine; he was breathing heavily, his cheek still red below his scar. I watched as the anger slowly drained from his face.

"I'll spit back," I repeated quietly, my gaze dancing back and forth between his glittering eyes. His face leaned ever so slightly closer to mine. I glanced briefly at his lips, which were wet, pink, and faintly parted. Then, hesitantly, he closed the gap between us, his mouth pressing softly against mine. I hardened my lips under his, pushing back; I felt his grip on my wrists loosen.

Then suddenly he was off of me, walking away.

"I'm going to find more firewood," he mumbled roughly, stalking off.

He didn't return again until morning.


End file.
